Jay didn't speak for a long time after he saw the photo.
Jack's photo.
Folded. Stained. Burnt at the edges. Pulled out of a dead man's mouth like some sick prophecy spat from the jaws of war.
A photo that didn't belong there. A photo that should've stayed on a nightstand, tucked into the back of a wallet, stuck between books on a forgotten shelf—safe. Innocent. Whole.
Not like this.
Jack was mid-laugh in the image, wind-tousled, caught in some long-lost moment, his joy unguarded and real. And that made it worse. It wasn't a surveillance picture. It wasn't staged. It was intimate. Personal. It meant someone had been watching long before the threat was made real.
Jay's fingers clenched around it, knuckles white. The blood smudged under his touch. His hands didn't tremble. But something inside him did. Something deep and constant. Like a scream trapped in the engine of his chest, revving hotter and louder by the second.
Across the suite, Jeff said nothing.
He didn't need to.
The storm was already here.
Jay turned the photo over again.
And again.
And again.
His thumb pressed into the burned corner, the torn edge, the blood-specked crease through Jack's eye.
He couldn't stop.
He didn't want to.
He wanted to understand the message. But it wasn't written in ink.
It was written in violation.
A promise of pain.
Across the room, Jack finally spoke, his voice too calm.
"They're getting bolder."
Jay didn't respond.
"They're going after people like that now. Out in the open. No masks. No warning."
Still, nothing from Jay.
Only silence.
Jack crossed the room, his footsteps light but deliberate, and reached out for the photo. But Jay didn't let go. His grip only tightened.
Jack paused. "Jay."
Jay's voice was rough, like gravel under pressure. "I should've seen it coming."
Jack stilled.
"They were never going to strike at the top," Jay continued. "Not first. They'd go for the cracks. The people we love. The pieces that matter."
Jack's breath caught, but he didn't speak. The tension in the room felt like a wire stretched to its limit, waiting for the inevitable snap.
Jay finally looked up.
And Jack saw it.
Not rage.
Not hatred.
Not even pain.
Fear.
Raw and brutal. The kind that strips a man to his bones.
"I don't care about the war," Jay said, voice low, tight, fraying at the edges. "I don't care about the legacy or the empire or the fucking code. But if anything happens to you—"
Jack cut in softly. "Jay—"
Jay's voice rose, unrestrained. "If anything happens to you, I swear to God, I'll drown them. All of them. The Koreans. Their networks. Their legacy. I'll drown this city in blood and salt if I have to."
"Jay."
"I mean it."
His chest heaved.
"Don't ask me to be rational when it's you."
Jack reached for him again, slower this time. His hand curled gently around Jay's wrist. His touch was warm, grounding, and steady.
Jay didn't pull away.
For once, Jack's voice was soft. "You can't lead with rage."
Jay's eyes locked with his. "Watch me."
Jack stepped closer. Close enough to feel the heat between them. "You think I'm not scared too? You think I don't know what this means?"
"I don't care what it means."
"But I do," Jack snapped suddenly, the fire in his voice slicing through the tension. "Because if you go storming into this, they'll kill you. And if you die, if you die—they win. Do you understand that?"
Jay blinked, startled by the sharpness.
Jack's voice cracked, thick with emotion. "Don't make me bury you."
The silence that followed wasn't empty. It was loud. Full of all the words neither of them had the strength to say.
Jay turned away, eyes glassy, jaw clenched. "I don't want to lose you."
"I know."
Jay exhaled shakily. "I'm not good at this."
Jack let out a bitter, almost fond laugh. "You're better at it than you think."
They stood like that, two bodies close enough to feel each other breathe, far enough to ache for more. The distance between them wasn't physical. It was the war. The blood and the fear all in one. The emotions they felt at that point were unexplainable, yet they understood each other perfectly.
Jay glanced down at the photo again
"They put your face in a corpse's mouth, Jack. Do you understand what that means?"
Jack nodded once, solemn. "They're marking me."
"You're next."
"I know."
Jay whispered, "And I can't do anything to stop it."
Jack held his gaze. "You already are."
Across town, Vavaporn's office was silent. The kind of silence that meant calculation. Ruthless, merciless calculation.
Jeff stood by the window as Vavaporn leaned over the table, his finger tracing a red string across a detailed map of Chiang Mai. Pins. Lines. Names.
And one name circled in thick black ink.
Jack Charlie.
Vavaporn didn't look up when he spoke. "Do you think the Koreans would dare touch the heir of Charlie's bloodline?"
Jeff didn't flinch. "They already did."
Vavaporn gave a single nod.
Measured. Cold.
"Then let's make sure they regret it."
Meanwhile, in a darker corner of the city, Charlie sat in his private study. The air around him was still. Heavy.
He'd stared at the same photo for over an hour now.
Jack's photo.
He hadn't spoken.
Hadn't called anyone.
But his guards noticed something.
He wasn't sharpening a knife.
He was polishing a bullet.
And he was smiling.
Back in the suite, Jay paced like a caged animal. His boots echoed against the floor.
"This isn't like before," he muttered. "They're not posturing anymore. They're closing in."
Jack watched him from the edge of the bed. Quiet. Observant. His eyes followed the twitch in Jay's hands. The stiffness in his shoulders. The way his voice only cracked on the words he didn't want to admit were true.
"They're trying to scare us," Jack said.
Jay stopped.
"It's working," he muttered. "It's fucking working."
The admission hung in the air like smoke.
Jack stood slowly.
Moved to him.
"Jay."
Jay didn't move.
Jack reached up, his hand finding Jay's cheek. Warm. Gentle. Too gentle for a world that wanted them dead.
It felt wrong.
It felt right.
Jay closed his eyes. Just for a moment. Just long enough to feel Jack's skin. His breath. His presence.
"I'm not ready to lose you," he whispered.
Jack leaned in, forehead to forehead, breath to breath. "You won't."
Jay's voice was barely audible. "Promise me."
Jack paused.
"I can't."
Jay pulled back instantly, a flash of pain in his eyes.
Jack didn't let go. His grip on Jay's hand tightened.
"I can't promise safety," Jack said. "But I can promise I'm still here. With you. As long as I can be."
Jay swallowed hard.
Then, like gravity finally claimed him, he collapsed into Jack's arms.
It wasn't soft.
It wasn't gentle.
It was survival.
And in that moment, survival was enough.
They held each other tightly—desperately—like the world might break apart if they didn't.
Outside, the sky grew darker.
The wind howled through the alleyways.
The city breathed, waiting.
And in that breath, far away, in the shadows of the neon-lit district…
Juhu smiled.
The game had begun.